


All Work and No Play

by Meveret



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: ALEINS, how do you sleep at night, so many aliens, steve how can you live in this town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meveret/pseuds/Meveret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day in the life of Steve Carlsberg. Written way back when we knew very little about the guy. I see him as a nice, paranoid guy and still do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Work and No Play

In a row of apartments, one door opened to stairs leading down. He had bargained for the room; a basement under the sand, away from signals and prying eyes. It didn’t hurt to be the hired maintenance worker as well. No windows, one door. The tapping of a keyboard droned ever on. Water boiled on a rusted water heater stacked on a pile of books. A closet led to a hole he had been digging for additional protection, loaves of bread hidden inside. Papers covered shag carpeting and spilled coffee grounds all under the light of several monitors.

"Reports have shown these medical records removed. Any attempt to contact the office was met with the typical excuses. Check back for updates and photos."

"A DNA sample found with six different base pairs. Experts deny it as a hoax. Only few have been able to see the sample, taken from a recently deceased member of the royal family."

"Lights were reported over the area before the incident. The new mother is still in intensive care. Special police have now appeared, barring anyone from entry."

Steve’s weary eyes scanned from headline to headline, archiving when necessary. He kept hand written records in binders that now lined an entire side of his room. Other records were transferred at once to UBS drive and placed in the safe. Up the wall, pictures of each town member he could manage with date taken, age and suspected characteristics. At the top: the mayor with aids and anyone seen with her. Yarn lay stretched on pins, connecting a note to a face and back to another scribble. News paper articles clung to the opposite wall with circles and highlighted marks scattered through out. Steve paused in his incessant clicking to turn toward the stack of literature next to him.

"No, no. Where is it?"

He flipped through title after title, tossing some to the ground in anger.

"It was just here. I was reading it last week, I-"

A frown. He looked at the date.

"I returned it to the library."

With a grumble, he rummaged around for his keys. Under the recent photos of the Glow Cloud, of course. He stood outside, locking every bolt before turning to head down the street. Too short a trip to warrant the car. The sun should have been dipping into the surrounding sand but this was Night Vale. Steve glared up at the moon and the accompanying darkness. The hour hand on his watch had not moved in five years.

There stood the library, vacant despite in the middle of functioning hours. A few people hung in the parking lot amid a group of bushes, aiming to time their entrance against the moving shapes in the windows. Steve walked up, eyeing the same danger with a different expression.

"Go in through the basement."

The three others turned.

"There’s a ramp around the corner leading to another door, shouldn’t be locked. They don’t seem to hang around there."

An exchange of looks. Steve sighed and kept walking, not caring what they decided. He soon found a small posse behind him, following his approach around the library to the side door. The library had a lower floor with old archives and books that bled too much to be allowed on the main shelves. Steve tried the door, finding it unlocked. And not one librarian in sight.

He wished the others luck, moving in the opposite direction once inside. History books were a rarity, he gave up finding any long ago. But they still kept old magazines that managed to keep a bit of the past. Foot steps soft, Steve snuck past waiting librarians to the section he was looking for. Years of practice did not distill the fear. Even as he ducked down, their guttural moans could be heard between shelves and racks. A scream echoed through the tense halls. Panic from the other group, foolishly running. He pressed himself against the back of a shelf, regretting his little trip. Silence fell at last allowing him to sneak on hands on knees over to one particular shelf. 

Night Vale monthly. The eighty-fifth reboot of the magazine in an even longer line. A gold mind he learned the hard way not to keep in a stack on his desk. They almost caught him last time, teeth gnashing in anger, knowing of his overdue property. He grabbed the tattered magazine, heading toward the door. Claws stopped him. They raked over a wooden shelf dripping with fresh blood. Steve cursed his foolishness, having rounded a corner with out first checking. Eyes stared into his.

And just like that the twisting maw was gone, distracted by something else. Steve followed its horrid form, knowing luck had not saved him. The librarian knocked into walls, fumbling as it rounded a corner and up stairs. How strange. He had to find out, even against better judgment. Shoes followed the blood trail until meeting the main door. No sign of the thing, or any others. Steve peeked out, looking down towards the parking lot before turning.

At the closer corner the librarian clung to the wall among tasteless landscaping. It appeared to be reaching up, far past the building. Steve followed the gesture. The moon had vanished under thick clouds slowly passing over the town. Replacing it hung several lights flexing in their brightness before fading away. A familiar occurrence. He’d taken dozens of pictures over years, yet now beat himself up over not having his camera now. When he looked back down the librarian had gone.

Perhaps around the corner? He approached, seeing no sign in dark. Swallowing hard, he peeked around. Still nothing. This side of the library ran along a line of trees and some disused storage shed. Recorder out, he narrated what he had just witnessed.

"If anyone finds this, I’m tracking a librarian. They rarely leave their territory but this one did, and it seemed to be looking up at the lights. Yes! Those lights."

Steve kept making his way along the wall, eyes scanning every bit of movement.

"I thought they were scanners or some kind of signal being broadcast, but this confirms it! They could be what’s controlling the-"

While looking up along the roof, he tripped on something heavy. His tape recorder smashed to the ground leaving him glaring at what thing dare lay hidden in the grass. He near fell again at the discovery.

"Cecil??"

No answer. Steve struggled to stand, backing away from what he hoped was not a corpse. Adjusting his glasses, he took a closer look. Still breathing. He knelt by the town’s radio host, shaking him.

"Cecil! Cecil are you ok?"

Still no reply. There wasn’t any blood or visible injuries. Steve looked around. This was just the seldom traveled side of the town, the back of a building. And the library of all places. He couldn’t just leave him here. Could he? The furious snarls of librarians could be heard close by.

Next to the parking lot sat a small area. Not fully a park but a space between lots with a few picnic tables and dry trees. He bent down, picking Cecil up in his arms with a grunt. The short walk was slow. Maybe you should lay off my scones then. Halfway there he had to stop and catch his breath. Cecil kept right on refusing to wake up. He was dragged by the shoulders the rest of the way.

Needing a rest, Steve laid Cecil out under a tree and sat down. No more librarians, no more lights. At least he managed the magazine. Then it hit him. The lights! Were they the cause of this? He’d never seen anyone affected, let alone around when he hid in the bushes taking pictures of the sky. He bent down, looking over Cecil again. The tattoos proved difficult, blocking any hope of finding something. But on the neck, strange marks almost in the shape of an oval. Steve leaned further, so engrossed that he did not hear Cecil groan, stirring.

"What the- STEVE!" A leg snapped out, kicking hard against the gut. "GET OFF OF ME!" Cecil rolled to his side, more than prepared to attack again. "What is wrong with you? How did I get here??"

Nursing his stomach, Steve held up a hand, trying to talk. “The librarians, lights in the sky, ugh.”

”Yeah, nonsense as usual.” Cecil tried to stand but found his legs too weak. “Mind telling me why I’m in the middle of nowhere WITH YOU STARING AT ME?”

"I found you!" Steve coughed, still recovering. "On the ground, by the library. So I carried you over here!"

"Pfff. Why?" A roll of the eyes. "People sometimes just pass out, it’s nothing to get frantic about. Jeez, Steve. How long have you lived here?"

Now able to stand, Cecil glared down.

"But the librarians! And the lights! It did something to you, I saw! They emit this signal and-"

"Whatever, Steve." A wobbling first step. Cecil looked around, trying to get his bearings. "I have a show to get to. So go be weird somewhere else."

Still a bit unsteady, Cecil trudged off. Steve watched him round the next block heading towards the radio station. Sore himself, he rose, brushing grass off his pants. He looked up at the sky hoping for something but was only met with stars. It was a long walk back. Again in his chair he sat in front of the glowing monitors, magazine before him. With a sigh he clicked on the radio fitted in tinfoil.

"And you would not believe what he said to me, listeners. Something about the lights and how they controlled me? Like, excuse me, I don’t need to hear this."

The coffee maker brewed a cup, black with no sugar. Illegal pen in hand, Steve began a new entry for today.

Theory 237: In Relation to the Lights in the Sky

Subject: Cecil Palmer

Controlled by aliens for a body and voice used to manipulate humans through radio waves. Unaware of place in world domination plot. Possibly abducted multiple times. Probe marks on neck.

\- Record and study voice clips

\- Filter radio signals

\- Follow subject

\- Obtain DNA sample


End file.
